Weak
by daysupondays
Summary: Reaction to TBU spoilers/TBU promo/TBU sneak peek. Blaine breaks up with Kurt and Kurt has a pretty rough few months. Rated M to be safe but it's sort of T/M. Warnings: drug abuse, depression ish sort of.


Kurt had spent the last so-close-to-two-years of his life thinking that he was on a rollercoaster. It's a cliché, but it's true. He had spent the majority of his life waiting in the queue for this supposedly incredible ride, watching his friends be picked up one by one as he seemed to get further shoved to the back of the line. He had remained patient, however, utterly trusting in the promise of the ecstasy of what was to come, and then without even realising it one day the people jostling him from all sides unexpectedly hurled him forwards and onto the ride and suddenly he was strapped in next to a gorgeous smouldering-eyed hobbit who smiled at him introduced himself as Blaine as the carriage and his heart began to pick up speed. Since then it had been terrifying swoop after swoop, every brush of Blaine's lips just as terrifying and wonderful as the first had been, every step mind-numbingly frightening but so utterly thrilling, and Kurt had never regretted his choice to wait so patiently in that queue for so long.

But now Kurt knew the truth. It had never been a rollercoaster. Kurt had been walking a tightrope, exhilarated and revelling in the novelty of this beautiful thing he had found, unaware of the occasional wobble and only occupied with Blaine's smiling face waiting for him at the other end, never suspecting that one day the rope would snap and he would go tumbling, desperately calling as he fell only to see Blaine, tears gushing down his cheeks but nevertheless bearing the pair of scissors that had cut him down.

And now Kurt lay at the bottom, Blaine's shining eyes long since disappeared for the last time, left only with a damp pillow and a gaping hole in his heart.

And that's a cliché, too, isn't it? But to Kurt that's truly what it felt like. The uncontrollable wrenching pain from the previous week had frozen and his heart felt icy in his chest. He was numb to everything - numb to Rachel's pleading, numb to the possibility of getting fired for missing so much work, yet the glacial rock in his chest remained day after day, reminding him every second of the man who had put it there, the man whose touch and whose love he would not and could not ever forget.

It was never supposed to be this way. But that meant nothing to Kurt. Time and time again he had witnessed that the best love never unfolded the way you anticipate it to. Yet that didn't mean it hurt any less. Kurt had left Ohio and all its limitations behind, trusting in the fact that Blaine would follow a year later with a case of bowties and a smile in his heart and all that love for Kurt still intact. They would hold each other on the doorstep and Rachel would have to duck under their arms to carry out her plan to give them some time, one she had come up with a week previously and had since lived in smugness at how thoughtful she was. They would kiss and cry and rediscover each other in the silhouette of the New York skyscrapers and all their troubles would be over because they had made it together and they had lasted the toughest year of their lives and from now on nothing would be as hard. And then the rest of their lives would begin. That had been the plan. They would Skype, and call and fly in and out of New York and the year would fly by.

So why had it only lasted a month?

Why had Blaine given up so easily?

Why could he never have his happily ever after?

What now?

The ache in his chest grew every day until it overshadowed his whole being. Every inch of him was in the utmost pain as he curled into himself every night, clutching his thin legs to his chest and crying into his pillow as he yearned for the warm weight of his everything to be beside him once more.

And then one day, the pain took over so much of him that he no longer remembered how it felt to actually feel good. How did he know that this wasn't good? Not one modicum of his body felt something other than pain, so Kurt got up and out of bed and showered and dressed and ate something substantial. And then he went to work and then he came home and hugged Rachel as she sobbed happily into his shoulder, soothing her with a promise that yes, he was going to be okay, and yes, she doesn't have to worry anymore and yes, homemade pasta would be lovely and why don't you crack out a bottle of wine while you're at it. And the next day, he got up again. And the next. And the next.

Kurt found that, in fact, he could get by without Blaine. And gradually, oh so slowly, he started to feel the sunlight on his skin once more. Something was always missing, but he rediscovered the joys of coffee with his best friend, a new find on Rue La La or a cheap rush ticket for a Broadway show.

And so Kurt Hummel lived.

But riding home on the subway one day, he was scathingly dissecting the girl opposite's outfit when she bent over to retrieve her ticket and revealed a head of curly dark hair behind her facing the opposite direction, and Kurt Hummel's heart stopped all over again. It wasn't him. Of course it wasn't him.

The next thing he knew he was wandering the streets of Manhattan, choking back tears and wrecking his boots as he aimlessly walked for hours. Soon enough he found himself in a seedy basement bar watching some hopeful crooner strum his guitar far too harshly for the song and knocking back shot after shot until eventually someone came and spoke to him and Kurt replied and found himself all over this blonde in a cab, touching and moaning and wanting. Soon enough they had pulled up to a block of flats overlooking a tiny rusty old bridge. Kurt pummelled the stranger into his pillow, his tears scattering over the man's tanned back as he came, suppressing a cry of Blaine's name. Then it was all over and the man was offering him something he'd never tried before and Kurt accepted because why not? Anything to make him feel better.

And make him better it did. The liquid rushed through his veins and a few minutes later he and Blondie were soaring, high above the clouds and wondering why he had never tried this before. He was truly alive for the first time in weeks. They laughed and drank and kissed some more and Kurt threw up the next morning but still found himself at the apartment over the bridge two days later ready to fly with Blondie once more and forget the piercing golden eyes that haunted his days. Two days after that he was back again. And the day after he begged Blondie to please, teach him, which he willingly did. And the day after that, Kurt was once again wandering the streets of his city, searching for somebody, anybody, who could give him what he needed. It didn't take long. This _was _New York City after all. Soon enough he was flat on his back in his own apartment, completely blissed out and giggling to himself and Rachel would never need to know. By the time she came home from her evening with Brody, Kurt was already in bed and she was none the wiser.

So this was Kurt's life now. Simple.

Yet day by day, the lines became more and more blurred. Kurt lost his internship at Vogue. He told Rachel it was because he spilt coffee over a $23,000 coat, but really it was because he had missed one too many mornings getting high at home after Rachel left. Kurt knew he was screwed but couldn't find it in himself to care. Now he had no responsibilities and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted and Rachel and Blaine could suck it.

Blaine. Sweet, beautiful Blaine. Kurt still missed him with all his heart every day. The meds no longer helped. More than once he found himself flat on his back murmuring Teenage Dream to himself, unable to forget that night and the damn piano bar and the look on Blaine's face as he shattered everything Kurt knew. Kurt yearned for Blaine with everything he had, but he was angry. Angry at Blaine for leaving him and ruining their love and screwing up his life. Kurt would take his magic dose and then jerk off, his senses heightened, pretending every stroke was from a smaller, rougher hand, closing his eyes and remembering the soft, warm weight of Blaine's body over his and the soft touch of his lips against his skin and the hushed promises of love. He screamed Blaine's name as he came all over the floorboards and fall asleep, hating Blaine on waking and hating himself even more. Because he had a new forever now. Blaine had taken his forever away from him, and now he was living this destiny and he didn't need anyone or anything but himself and the magic.

Inevitably, one day Rachel found out. She arrived home to find her best friend unconscious and naked in a pool of sick and come on the floor of their apartment. She hysterically dialled an ambulance and, several hours later, found herself sobbing into Brody's chest as she waited for news, any news, cursing herself for being so utterly self-involved and ignoring the bags under Kurt's eyes, his frequent absence from the apartment, how thin he was getting and how little he cared about anything any more. Then suddenly she was being called into Kurt's room and she broke down all over again, sat by his bedside stroking his hair, wondering how her beautiful Kurt ever could have got himself in such a mess. Eventually she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and crept from the room, briefly updating Brody and taking out her cell to call Burt, who assured her chokingly that he was on his way. Rachel collapsed into Brody's arms and fell asleep.

A few hours of fitful sleep later, she was woken by Burt Hummel's distinctive voice bellowing through the corridors of the hospital who, it seemed, were taking far too long to confirm that he was, in fact, the patient's father. Rachel crept up behind and squeaked out Burt's name, who wheeled around and quickly enveloped the tiny girl in his arms. She assured him that Kurt was alive and then they were swiftly moving through the hospital, a pretty blonde nurse leading them to Kurt's room which Rachel let Burt enter alone. At first she couldn't help herself watching through the blinds, but she soon turned away, wishing she hadn't had to witness the sight of one of the people she admired most in the worst collapsing to the floor at the sight of his son.

Kurt came round a few hours later. Rachel cried his shoulder as he stroked her hair and hated herself even more for making _him_ comfort _her_ in the situation. Kurt assured them that it had not been a suicide attempt, but otherwise spoke very little.

He was released two days later on the condition that he would enter rehab within a month. As soon as they got home, he refused to look at the brochures Burt had picked up. So Burt chose the one he thought seemed best and the following weekend he was driving into Pennsylvania and dropping his boy off with tears in his eyes at Kurt's numb, indifferent expression. He didn't say goodbye. Burt told him he loved him.

Kurt spent the next week throwing up, suffering agonising headaches and sleeping fitfully, sweating into his sheets and whimpering from the pain. It was as if all his bones were grinding together. He lay in bed just aching for another shot, telling himself that one more would do no harm if he could only get his hands on some, that he was a coward for giving up and he should be able to handle it. _You pussy, _he told himself. _You're so pathetic. You're weak. You can't cope with just a little H. You deserve to have died._ He pounded the bathroom tiles until he had to lie down again for fear of passing out. Slowly, he began to feel better, but the little voice in his head never stopped.

_You're weak, _it told him.

_Yes. Yes I am, _Kurt thought.

Kurt remained in rehab for two more weeks. He ate, slept, and took up painting. He began to feel more like himself.

_You're weak._

Every day Kurt felt better. He stopped having headaches and began to socialise with the other residents of the clinic.

_You're weak._

And finally, Burt came to collect him. Kurt hugged his father and apologised for everything he had caused. As they drove, Kurt gazed out the car window.

_You're weak you're weak you're weak._

_I'm weak, _he thought.

Burt told Kurt that they were not, in fact, going back to New York. Kurt could go back in a couple of months, he said, but for now, he was coming back to Ohio. Kurt agreed, even though returning to Lima was the last thing he wanted.

_Weak. You should have insisted on returning to New York._

_Weak, _agreed Kurt.

Winter had hit Ohio hard. Kurt had been so much looking forward to his first Christmas in New York, but now it was only a week away and here he was again. The festivities had passed him by completely in New York and now it seemed sprung upon him. He didn't go out to buy presents, but he did tell Carole he would help with the turkey. He didn't go with Burt to pick a Christmas tree but he did help decorate it when he got home. Kurt spent most of his days curled up on the couch watching _Bachelorette _reruns. Finn was unable to make it home, so it was just the three of them.

Christmas Day came and went. Kurt smiled and laughed and ate too much and watched _Miracle on 34__th__ Street _wishing he could be back on the streets of his beloved city. At around 6pm, he excused himself to take a walk. On Carole's insistence, he bundled up in boots, coat and scarf and set off into the already dark evening.

Lima was silent. The snow crunched beneath Kurt's feet as he trudged up the road, ignoring the warm glow of the windows of the homes he passed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was reminded of a poem he had once read by Sylvia Plath. _Now, in valleys narrow and black as purses, the house lights gleam like small change. _Kurt felt very much like Plath in that moment, suspended in a world of growing darkness and so very detached from the comfort of his surroundings and rather like small change himself - practically worthless. _Weak._

He thought perhaps he had not yet ever missed Blaine quite as much as he did in that moment.

Kurt paused at the gate to his old park. Their old park. The dry yellowed grass of the summer he had left behind was invisible, smothered in an icy coat of snow. The trees were bare and vulnerable and he watched an owl land on a branch and shuffle along into its home. A tiny voice in his head told him he was lucky to have witnessed it. _Lucky? Nothing about me is lucky, _he scoffed to the voice. _You're lucky to be alive, _it replied. Kurt drowned out it out. The voice was a liar. He listened instead to the voice of reason.

_Weak weak weak weak weak._

"Kurt?"

Kurt closed his eyes. He smiled. And he turned.

There he was. Somehow, Kurt had known that he would be. Blaine looked as glorious as ever, if a little tired and thin and somehow so much older than he had three months ago. His hair was a little longer and left natural, falling into his eyes. Kurt ached to brush them away. He fixed Kurt with that piercing stare he had missed so much.

"I didn't expect to see you here. I knew you were back in town, but…" Blaine trailed off. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Kurt shrugged.

"It's one of the few places I have good memories of in Lima."

Blaine nodded, hands in his pockets and staring at the floor.

"I heard about everything that happened."

Kurt sighed. Of course Blaine knew. And now Blaine would have to pretend to care. Just great. More pity.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Kurt stared. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Why on earth would I tell you, Blaine? Why would I try to get in touch with you? You broke my heart. You're the reason I nearly died last month. How could I ever have told you?"

Blaine's eyes were filled with so much pain that Kurt couldn't bring himself to look into them any longer. He kicked at a pile of snow, watching as it scattered across the ground, fading into nothingness in the ocean of white.

"I know you hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"You must be angry."

"Yes."

Blaine nodded again.

"I should go."

Kurt didn't reply. Blaine hesitated, and turned to leave.

"Blaine." Kurt whispered, not sure if he even meant Blaine to hear it or not. He did. Slowly, he turned back and took a few steps closer. His eyes burned into Kurt's, fixing him with an intensity he had not experienced since their last meeting.

"I miss you so much." whispered Blaine. Kurt let out a strangled sob and buried his face in the inside of his wrist. Blaine whimpered and in two steps was gathering Kurt into his arms. Kurt only cried harder and clung to Blaine's chest, trying with all his might to suppress his tears so that he could breathe properly and catch a whiff of the earthy sandalwood _Blaine _smell that had long since faded from his clothes. Blaine's strong arms enveloped him and he clung on tightly, waiting for the tears to subside and listening to Blaine's soothing hush in his ear. It wasn't until he pulled himself together and glanced up that he realised that Blaine, too, had tears pouring down his cheeks and into Kurt's hair. Kurt stood up straighter and brushed the tears from Blaine's face with the pad of his gloved thumbs before taking the smaller boy in his arms. Blaine buried his face in Kurt's neck and inhaled deeply. Kurt hid his face in Blaine's curls and together they shook with suppressed sobs.

"Blaine…please…" he eventually choked out.

"Please what, Kurt? What?" murmured Blaine.

"Please tell me it's going to be okay."

Blaine pulled back and looked up into Kurt's eyes. Taking his face in his hands, he looked fiercely into his eyes and spoke harshly, his breath forming clouds in the cold night air.

"You, Kurt Hummel, are going to be just fine."

And with that, he lunged forward and kissed him. The moment their lips met, Kurt was flying higher than he had from anything from Blondie had ever given him. Every feeling came rushing back to him as they kissed, Blaine's chapped dry lips the familiar taste of Blaine's mouth, the memories of day after day in this very park exchanging kisses just like these, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. Kurt had heard that this felt like melting, like collapsing, but to him it felt more like rising - the overwhelming love and desperation within him threatening to take over completely. Tears slipped down both of their cheeks as they held each other and kissed each other deeper, desperately trying to catch as much of what they had lost as possible to store, to keep away in case they ever lost it again. Blaine slowly backed Kurt up against a tree and slipped his ungloved hands beneath Kurt's scarf to cup his bare neck. Kurt winced at his icy fingers and Blaine apologised between kisses. Both of them giggled for the first time in what felt like years. Eventually they broke apart to catch their breath, leaning forward to catch another brief chaste kiss every few seconds for fear of losing this again, each boy terrified that any moment now the other would take off and leave. Neither did. They stood together for a few minutes, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together, eyelashes fluttering.

"Please," whispered Kurt eventually. "Please don't leave me again."

"Never," Blaine's voice cracked. "Never, Kurt, I swear to god…"

They fell back into silence. Blaine leaned forward and pressed his lips to Kurt's once more, enveloping him in a deep, smooth kiss.

"I love you," he breathed as he broke away. He immediately kissed him again, pressing kisses to Kurt's lips over and over again, muttering declarations of love between them. "I love you so much, Kurt."

"Blaine, please don't. Don't say that if you don't mean it."

"I do mean it, Kurt, I swear I do, I mean it more than I ever have, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove it." rambled Blaine desperately. "Please say that you love me still, please. I don't think I could bear it if you didn't."

Kurt let out yet another strangled sob.

"Of course I love you," he cried. "I love you so damn much that I lost my job and my friends and my prospects and I nearly fucking died! I love you so fucking much but I hate you for what you did to me and to us and it's all because I love - you - so - fucking - much!" Kurt crashed rough kisses into Blaine's lips between each word. Then his sudden anger seemed to deflate. "I love you." he whispered brokenly.

"I love you, too." whispered Blaine.

They stood together in the snow, holding each other. Breathing each other. Loving each other. Eventually Blaine spoke up.

"You're still the strongest, bravest, most beautiful person I'll ever meet." he said, stroking Kurt's hair back and pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Kurt closed his eyes.

_Weak._

_No, _Kurt replied. _No. _


End file.
